The following fictional story is the product of my twisted brain. None of these characters actually exist. They are not remotely based on any person you or I are acquainted with. Unless you happen to know someone with a classic car….

triumph-stag

Simon walked up the drive to his friend Ralph ‘s garage, to find Ralph was already ‘En residence’. He was standing in front of his spotlessly clean bench, sorting a pile of car bits which had arrived that day in a large cardboard box. A second much smaller box still awaited his attention.

As had become the norm between the friends over the last twenty years, their greetings were insulting.

‘Well, has the hairdryer for your ‘Pose-mobile’ finally arrived?’ said Simon, pointing at the larger of the two boxes.

‘No, this is a fresh box of holes and rust for that old Frogeye Sprite of yours! Countered Ralph.

They allowed each other a grin at their own jokes, and then the usual tins of beer appeared and were opened. Simon started to examine the most recent work to Ralph’s partially stripped 1974 Triumph Stag which currently rested up on axle stands in the middle of the garage floor. Due to a family holiday, Simon hadn’t been round to Ralph’s garage in a couple of weeks, and much had happened. All the major welding had been finished, with new outer sills and several patches to the floor. A door skin had been fitted to the passenger side, a patch on the A pillar, and a pair of new front wings lay propped against the garage wall. Simon was impressed, but obviously couldn’t admit it – at least not for a while.

‘Oh dear Ralph, I thought you said you were taking a few days off work to get on with this thing. Did you just go to the beach instead?’ Simon teased.

Ralph opened his mouth to protest, but saw his friend’s grin out of the corner of his eye.

‘Yes actually, the beach was lovely!’ He waved his arm expansively in the direction of the car. ‘I did this little bit of welding on Monday evening before Eastenders. When you weren’t around to hold the panels and stuff, I found next door’s cat was very useful. He’s also really good with the rivet gun… for a tabby….’

Simon sniggered at the thought, but eventually had to admit to Ralph that really, the progress was pretty good, and he had done well.

‘Actually,’ continued Ralph. ‘It’s the cat’s night off, so maybe you can help me fit and align these front wings?




Over the next couple of hours, the two friends worked away happily together – one on each side. The talk was of Simon’s touring holiday to France, and Ralph’s Mother’s impending 70th Birthday party that weekend. In between the convivial chat and the odd insult, the work was punctuated by the stacato whizz of ratchets, the clang of dropped spanners, and the ‘Bang, bang, bang!’ of the ‘Emergency alignment tool’ (hammer…).

Eventually, they stood back to admire their work. The two front wings were now fitted and looking pretty good – with nice even panel gaps to both doors. Although most of the rest of the car was a lurid purple called ‘Magenta’ (a typical shade from British Leyland’s mid 1970s colour pallette), the brand new wings were in a single coat of the factory applied protection black. There had been much discussion between them about keeping the car’s original colour, but Ralph still wasn’t totally convinced…

‘Actually, your side’s not bad for someone without a straight eye in their head Simon.’ said Ralph with a smirk, as he opened another beer.

Simon, who felt he’d come off worse in the verbal abuse stakes most of the night, was about to retort with some cutting remark, when the small side door of the garage opened. Ralph’s wife, Sue, entered – closely followed by next door’s cat, who squeezed in round her legs. Simon smiled at her, and then glanced down at the cat, noting the absence of a welding mask – which seemingly confirmed that the little furry traitor had no intention of doing any work tonight! Sue walked over to Simon and gave him a hug. She asked about his family’s holiday, and then suddenly seeing the unopened smaller cardboard box on the bench, she brightly said:-

‘Oh, is that the new hairdryer?’

Simon couldn’t believe his luck, as he sank to the ground, laughing. Ralph slapped his forehead with his hand, and then glared at his poor wife. Sue, totally confused, was looking from side to side between Simon, red with laughter on the floor, to her husband, red with embarrassment standing beside the bench.

‘Er….what’s going on Ralph…?’ Said Sue. ‘I only came in to see if the hairdryer I ordered for your Mum’s birthday present had arrived today….!’

Give him his dues, the cat said nothing.

Tony Hamilton for In2Motorsports.com

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